Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 115: Chen Ye’s Conscience

For the first time, a crack appeared in Captain Chu Che’s composed facade. Anxiety was written all over his face.

“Listen, the convoy is in serious trouble.”

“I know most of you don’t give a damn about the ordinary survivors. To you, they are baggage. But ask yourselves this: if the labor force dies, if the meat shields freeze… can the few of us survive out here alone?”

Chu Che wasn’t fear-mongering. He was genuinely panicked.

“Six people died last night. Dozens more are delirious with fever. If this continues, we’re looking at a total party wipe. We have already lost too many people.”

His voice dropped, rasping with suppressed emotion. “We cannot afford more casualties.”

“When you go out today, bring back medicine. Antibiotics, fever reducers—grab as much as you can carry. Please.”

Chu Che’s gaze swept across the room, locking eyes with each elite member.

Iron Lion was the first to nod, his jaw set like granite. “Captain, don’t worry. I’ll bring back enough drugs to open a pharmacy. Leave it to me.”

Ding Dong nodded silently, her expression serious.

Sun Qianqian, the pink-haired girl, waved a hand nonchalantly. “Relax, Captain. Just wait for the good news.”

Only Chen Ye remained silent.

Bringing medicine wasn’t impossible. It was just… inefficient.

He was a Sequence Beyonder. His immune system was fortified by supernatural energy; he didn’t get sick. Even if he did, human medicine would be like tossing a pebble into the ocean—useless.

Scavenging for medicine meant entering hospitals or pharmacies, which were high-risk zones for Anomalies. Risking his life for Supplies he couldn’t use? That went against his survivalist code.

But…

If he didn’t do it, the herd would die. And if the herd died, the wolves would eventually starve. The convoy needed bodies to function.

Meeting Chu Che’s desperate, sincere gaze, Chen Ye finally let out a breath. He gave a slow, singular nod.

“Fine. Let’s move out.”

Three vehicles tore out of the camp, kicking up plumes of white powder as they vanished into the blizzard.

The survivors left behind watched them go with wide, desperate eyes. Those three cars carried their only hope of seeing another sunrise.

Iron Lion’s massive school bus had been converted into a quarantine zone for the sick, so the team had to consolidate.

Sun Qianqian, Little Yu, Iron Lion, and Ding Dong piled into one vehicle.

Chen Ye took the lead in his Doomsday Pickup, with Xue Nan riding shotgun.

Chen Ye glanced at the internet celebrity in the passenger seat. He didn’t know how Xue Nan had survived the freezing night in those thin clothes, but the guy was still breathing. He was now wearing three or four layers of scavenged T-shirts—a pathetic defense against the sub-zero cold, but better than bare skin.

The third vehicle was Zhou Xiaoxiao’s sedan, packed to the brim with ordinary survivors. These were the gamblers—people willing to risk their lives on a supply run rather than freeze to death in camp. They were looking to turn a bicycle into a motorcycle; high risk, high reward.

To maximize cargo space, all non-essential gear had been stripped from the vehicles.

Chen Ye drove point. The pink-haired girl followed. The overloaded sedan brought up the rear.

The snow seemed to be falling harder today.

Inside the pickup, Xue Nan shivered uncontrollably, his teeth chattering like a machine gun. Despite the cold, he looked around the cab with wide-eyed curiosity.

Before the apocalypse, a celebrity with millions of fans wouldn’t be caught dead in a beat-up truck like this. Xue Nan drove a luxury sports car worth millions.

Now, looking at the sturdy metal interior of the Doomsday Pickup, his eyes were filled with pure envy. In the wasteland, utility was the ultimate luxury.

The convoy pushed against the wind.

The journey to Rong City was only twenty kilometers. Under normal conditions, it was a 30-minute drive. Today, battling snowdrifts and ice, it took them a grueling ninety minutes just to reach the outskirts.

Through the windshield, the skyline of Rong City emerged from the white haze.

Chen Ye’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He pushed his senses to “twelve parts” attention—extreme alertness.

Ten minutes later, they breached the city limits.

Without the hum of traffic or the bustle of crowds, the silence was terrifying. It was a heavy, suffocating quiet, broken only by the crunch of tires on snow.

Everything was buried. Cars abandoned on the streets were merely white mounds. Trees bowed under the weight of the ice.

Yet, life persisted. Some evergreen trees stood defiant in the white world, offering stark splashes of green. Chen Ye even spotted plum blossoms in the median, their pink and white petals blooming amidst the frost—a hauntingly beautiful sight.

Small, nameless birds perched on branches, tilting their heads to watch the intruders.

The convoy cut through the main avenue like an arrow aiming for the city’s heart.

High above, in a glass skyscraper, a pair of narrow, venomous eyes watched them approach.

On the street level, the road was a graveyard of wrecked vehicles. Chen Ye swerved around the pile-ups when he could. When he couldn’t, he simply floored the gas.

CRASH.

The reinforced bumper of the Doomsday Pickup smashed through the frozen wrecks, clearing a path for the cars behind.

“Mr. Chen! Clothes… look, clothes!”

Xue Nan suddenly shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at the roadside.

Chen Ye followed the line of sight.

A storefront. The sign above read “Bosideng”—a premium domestic brand famous for high-end down jackets. Before the world ended, a single coat from here cost a small fortune.

Now, the glass doors were shattered, wide open as if inviting them in.

SCREECH.

Chen Ye slammed on the brakes. The pickup skidded several meters across the ice before coming to a halt.

He didn’t wait for the engine to die. He kicked the door open and bailed out.

The two vehicles behind him slammed to a halt.

A dozen shivering, desperate figures spilled out, their faces twisted with a mix of agony from the cold and ecstasy at the sight of the store.

“Chen Ye… good eyes!” Sun Qianqian cheered, her voice muffled by the wind. “Cousin, wait for me! Help me pick one! No, pick ten!”

They hit the store like a pack of starving wolves entering a sheepfold. Or perhaps mice falling into a rice bin.

The shop was massive, racks of premium winter gear stretching back into the gloom.

The survivors didn’t bother with browsing. They grabbed the nearest puffy object and shoved their limbs into it. For them, every second of exposure was torture.

Chen Ye’s eyes locked onto a target immediately: a long, black, goose-down trench coat.

He grabbed the tag. 12,000 RMB.

“Nice.”

He ripped the tag off and threw the coat on. The high-quality down trapped his body heat instantly. It felt like stepping into a warm bath.

He wasn’t a Beyonder whose physique was his main strength; he felt the cold just as much as anyone else. This coat was a lifesaver.

He quickly grabbed a pair of thick thermal pants and pulled them on over his jeans.

Then, he heard a scuffle.

“It’s mine! I saw it first!”

“Get off!”

Near the shoe rack, three survivors were brawling over a pair of heavy-duty snow boots.

Chen Ye walked over. He didn’t say a word.

Thud. Thud.

He kicked two of them in the chest, sending them sliding across the slick floor. He snatched the boots from the frozen hands of the third.

He inspected the prize. They were crumpled, but the quality was undeniable.

3,000 RMB. No wonder they were fighting.

Chen Ye sat on a bench, kicked off his questionable “Air Jordans,” and laced up the snow boots.

The survivors he had kicked glared at him, nursing their ribs, but none dared to speak. They scrambled away to find leftovers.

Nearby, Sun Qianqian had found a pristine white down jacket. She twirled, admiring the fit. It made her look playful, almost cute.

Except for the fact that she was still bare-legged.

Chen Ye stared. A thick winter coat on top, bare skin below. He remembered fashion bloggers doing this “neuropathy” style before the apocalypse—certifiably insane behavior.

But then again, she was a Sequence 2 Sword Immortal. She could probably run around naked and be fine.

He looked over at Little Yu.

The child was currently raiding the kids’ section, disappearing under a pile of colorful coats.